


Nightfall

by Holde_Maid



Series: Highlander50_-_Methos [11]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Community: highlander50, Horsemen, LiveJournal Prompt, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-23
Updated: 2007-04-23
Packaged: 2018-07-18 08:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7306915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holde_Maid/pseuds/Holde_Maid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos is facing the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightfall

**Author's Note:**

> Claim: Methos (whom I do NOT own, alas.)  
> Prompt: Night.  
> Rating/Warnings: PG-13, I suppose? for cursing and violence  
> Word count: 560  
> Disclaimer: Neither the characters nor any part of the Highlander universes are mine. Also, no harm intended and no profit made. Not even trying to. :-)  
> Author's Note: Thanks to jinxed_wood for the prompt, and to the talented em_kellesvig for her competent beta! (Any remaining errors are mine, but if you like one, I'm willing to share *g*)  
> Prompt Table: http://holde-maid.livejournal.com/11492.html#cutid2

  
The shadows of the tents grew longer; Merging, they crept from nooks and openings to conquer the plains of the desert. As darkness fell around the encampment, Methos' heart sank. Dusk was closing in on him. Almost night now.  
  
It was always the worst at night. First, the screams that came from his brothers' tents. Then, when he had finally fallen asleep, the nightmares.  
  
Cassandra came up from behind, putting a blanket around his shoulders. Impatiently he brushed it off. He didn't need pampering. All he needed was a good night's sleep. Or less tension. Less of this unsettling kind of life.  
  
The truth was, he was deteriorating, in more than one sense of the word. Sometimes he was so high-strung, he took it out on Cassandra. Other times he regained his sanity, or rather his self-control. He was not exactly sorry for beating her, but it paid to treat obedient slaves better than that. On those occasions, he tended to err in the opposite direction, being too gentle, too kind. That, too, was getting worse.  
  
And the more unpredictable he became, the more submissive Cassandra grew. Only natural, of course, but another two-edged sword added to his already difficult life. Her sudden servitude attracted Kronos’ attention. On the one hand he was fascinated and admired what he’d consider a skilful taming, but at the same time it aroused his jealousy.  
  
Neither did anything to soothe Methos' sore nerves. Only a change of company would have afforded him some peace of mind, and that wasn't an option. Hell, he couldn't even afford to release Cassandra, much less himself!  
  
No, it was going to get worse, and worse, and worse, and there was no escape for him in sight.  
  
At first he had believed this alliance to be simple and sensible. Kronos had seemed to understand his anger at being powerless, and so they had joined forces. He had valued Methos' strategic skills and the grandeur of his plans. Seizing power had made sense, it had been as straightforward as the hunting tiger's attack.  
  
But soon Methos had realized that Kronos did not understand his designs at all. He didn't share Methos' visions. To him, it was not a matter of becoming village elder, duke, emperor. In fact, he had _no_ goal, but merely enjoyed the violence it took to get there. To him, it was all about people kneeling before him, trembling with fear. With terror. _That_ was power to him, not a title, not gold, not the number of slaves or the men he commanded. Just the number of those who feared him, and the number of lives he had taken, the bodies he had mutilated, the women he had raped.  
  
Consequently, there would be no end to the carnage. Things could only grow worse, and worse, and worse, and there was no escape. It was like walking the desert on bare feet, each step more unbearable than the last.  
  
The struggle for power had turned into a struggle for survival long ago. By day he did whatever it took to keep Kronos entertained. He killed, raped, mutilated alongside his brothers. But at night, the dead came to haunt him. His own fears came to haunt him. Even his brothers came to haunt him at night, in his nightmares.  
  
And so, when night fell, Methos' heart sank.


End file.
